Life, and The Things That Come With It
by heidihallberg07
Summary: Georgiana's life was happy, perfect until tragedy strikes her life. She now finds herself living with her father, but life has it's surprises and sadness. Follow her as she goes through life's journey with the bumps along the way.
1. Chapter 1

I regret nothing. As I sit here and I think back to the events that led me up to where I am today I can't bring myself to regret a single thing. I know that if I had never moved in with my father and decided to re-start my life with him I would not be where I am today. I know that things happen for a reason, that there really is no plausible explanation to what happens in our lives. But, I regret nothing. I know that life will throw you curve balls and you are expected to dodge them, but you don't always do. I know that not everything is your fault, but you can't help but feel like it is. Life, it is not something you can control, not something you can fully understand. But yet, people expect you to. I look down at my future and I wonder to myself what will happen next. But, I regret nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 1**

Standing and starring down in the deep black hole I couldn't help but cry. Cry for myself, cry for the fact that it was raining, cry for the fact that my mother was being lowered down into the cold, wet, dirty ground. I stand here in my newly purchased black dress as my father holds my hand and tries his best to comfort me. This was not how I had pictured me seeing my father again for the first time in almost eleven years. My parents divorced when I was six years old and I have had no contact with the man since. Here I am now sixteen almost seventeen years old and I have to move in with a stranger. Sure he is my father, but I really wouldn't consider him 'family' since I haven't had any contact with the man since elementary school. My mother left my father and moved out to the bright lights of New York City. She had told my father as she was leaving him that she couldn't stand living in a small town where everyone knew everything about everyone and wanted to give her daughter a "true city experience". Moving in with my father was going to be a stretch for me. He lived in Cromwell, Minnesota population: 200 people. This was going to be very different from the almost 8 million people that lived in New York. Cromwell, Minnesota was the typical small town. It was the type of small town that had the same amount of bars was equal to the amount of churches. Where most teens would say 'meet me on some random back road to make out'. Or the small town where everyone was in everybody's business. I am sure that by now that I was the keen topic to the old ladies gossip group. Living in a small town everyone knew everybody. Your neighbors would just randomly stop by to 'chit chat'. In New York I had never met my neighbors. In New York, you only knew the people you associated with on a daily bases. My mother worked as a journalist in New York. She always told me that she enjoyed writing, it was a way for her to "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..." The preacher's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. It wasn't too often that I let something consume my every thought. I wasn't usually one to get 'lost in thought'. I look down into the hole that now holds my mother. I can't help the fact that the sight of it brings me to my knees. The sight of my mother, my caregiver, and up until now the only person that has taken care of my every need and want. I can't bring myself to care that my dress is getting dirty and wet. I also do not care that I was the only one that was still there. I just kneel there and cry the tears that I have been holding in since I had woken up in the hospital and found out my mother was dead. I never understood why she was taken, and I was left here. I had never felt so alone, I didn't know what would happen to me next or what was going to become of me moving in with my father. I'm not sure how long I was there before my father came and brought me to the car.

"Georgie, it's time to go." My father has called me Georgie ever since I was born. He wasn't too crazy about my mother naming me Georgiana. He thought that it was to much of a nineteenth century name, and that I should be named a more 'modern' name. Since my father has always wanted a boy and my mother couldn't have any more children, he always called me Georgie. To me, it was always a constant reminder that I was always the 'son he never would get'.

Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days. In the haze that I was in I packed and packed. Before I knew it I was on a plane headed to Duluth Minnesota. I wasn't really sure what to expect when I moved in with my father. I was going to miss living in New York.

Landing in Duluth Minnesota I felt two different things. The first being sadness. Sadness for myself, sadness for the fact that I was now going to live in nowhere-ville Minnesota. I also felt, for the first time in a long time, anger. I know that it is selfish of me to be angry at my mother, but I couldn't help myself. I felt like it was her fault for what happened. My mother was the type of person to be too trusting with people. I know that deep down it wasn't her fault, but I also felt the need to blame somebody for what had happened.

I found my father standing, waiting for me. He gave me a hug and led me to the car. During the car ride I had time to think, something I have been doing a lot lately. I'm not sure what, or if I am going to get anything out of living with my father. I am hoping I at least get to know the man better before I move out and go to college. As my father pulled into the driveway, two things quickly entered my mind. First, I couldn't help but wonder why my father lived right next to the school, and secondly I suddenly realized that this could actually be a good thing for me. When I lived in New York, I was always involved with the wrong crowd. But, here I was going to attempt to be the 'good girl' that my mother had taught me to be.

My father led me upstairs and down the short hallway. He led me to what used to be my childhood bedroom. This room still had the dresser, rocking chair, and bookshelf I had as a child. The only thing that was different is that the bed was larger. My room overlooked the main street going through Cromwell. My father left me to unpack and get 'settled'. Looking through my things and putting them in there right spot, I once again started to cry. I had been doing that a lot lately. I was crying for myself, again. I was crying for the life that I had left behind in New York, the life that I would never get back. I was crying for the fact that my dreams now had a smaller chance of happening. I knew it was wrong to be feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn't help it. I picked up a picture of my mother and I, it had been taken shortly after we moved to New York. I couldn't help but smile. It was the day she had taken me to my first Broadway show. It was then that I decided that I wanted to be on stage. But now, it looks like that sadly will not be happening. I quickly finish putting most of my things away and go to bed early. I was going back to Duluth the next day to do some last minute "Minnesota clothes shopping". I laid there looking out the window and slowly drifted into a deep sleep.

Waking up to the sunshine, something I hadn't done in a long time. I quickly got up when I heard my father knock on the door.

"Georgie, I thought that maybe I should go with you today." My father was a protective person, it was something that I was going to need to get used to.

"No, dad. I'll be fine. I did walk around New York by myself all the time." He rolls his eyes as he walks out of the room. He still couldn't understand how a mother would let their little girl walk around a big city by themselves by the age of 9. I went back upstairs to finish unpacking. Looking through the pictures, the cards, the memories I couldn't help but cry. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, but what can you expect from someone that just lost their parent and was uprooted from their home to move into the social suicide town. I tried to organize my room to replicate my old room back in New York. My room represented me, and what I had always dreamed of doing with my life. Being on stage. Even though I know lived in crazy town Minnesota I was not about to let my dream die. Getting lost in thought I didn't realize that it was already two in the afternoon. I knew that if I wanted to get to Duluth and get my shopping done before dark I would have to scoot. The drive to Duluth took me about 45 minutes. It gave me time to make a mental list of the things I would need to 'survive' a Minnesota winter. Arriving to the mall, I quickly made my way through and got the things that I needed. It must have taken me longer than I thought, because before I knew it , it was dark outside. I made my way to my father's car, I got about half way there when I heard someone behind me. I turned around and saw somebody there, I'm guessing it was a man in his late 20's. I tried to hurry to my car, I figured he just must have parked near where I had. He pushed me into my car, and looked at me. His eyes, I will never forget them. They had a sickening look to them. The last thing I remember is a dark object coming at my face.

'**Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...' **I started hearing what sounded like a dump truck backing over me. It's what I felt like too so it made sense that I was hearing a dump truck. I slowly opened my eyes and I saw a plain white wall. I looked to my right and saw my father starring out the window. He turned and looked at me with a small sad smile on his face. I wasn't sure what to think, I didn't know where I was or what was wrong, but the look on my dad's face told me it was something bad.

"Dad, what happened, where am I?" My throat was dry so I sounded more like a chain smoker than myself.

"Georgie, what was the last thing that you remember? He sounded concerned. I wasn't really sure why? I mean I am fine, right? But the look in his eyes told me different. I didn't quite understand why. I had only seen that look one other time in my life, I saw that look when he had shown up in New York to "help me cope with the loss of my mother". It was a look of pain, and of sadness. I slowly took his hand and responded.

"Well, I remember shopping in Duluth for clothes, and I remember calling you saying I was leaving, then I remember someone following me to my car, and then everything goes black." I slowly start to panic. "Dad, what happened to me!" It came out more of a demand then I meant for it. I was now getting more and more scared. As I was recalling the events that happened yesterday I thought I knew what happened next, but I didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be true, could it? I looked back at my father, willing him to deny what I had already thought was wrong.

"Georgiana," he slowly looked down and then looked back at me, sadness in his eyes. "Last night you were attacked. A man came up behind you pushed you into your car, beat you and he...he..." my father broke down sobbing. The only time I had ever seen him cry was when my mother and I left him. I looked out the window, no, NO this couldn't have happened to me. I felt like my whole world had just come crashing down on me. I felt the tears slowly come. I couldn't bring myself to talk. I didn't want to talk, I didn't want to think about it. But, I knew what had happened to me. A man had taken advantage of me. I felt gross, I felt dirty. I felt like I had just lost all my will to live. I looked back at my father, he looked out the window still in shock and saddened by what had happened. He also looked like he didn't know what to do next. He reminded somewhat of my mother. She was always confused and unsure of what to do when something bad happened, but at the same time she was a rock when I needed her to be. Maybe, just maybe this was a way for my mom to still be with me. I took my father's hand and he slowly looked back at me, sadness still clear in his eyes.

"Daddy," I slowly closed my eyes to collect my words. "I am okay. I will be okay."


End file.
